resented
to him by the native and English residents, on his leaving India, is
worth repeating.

"The history of the British Empire in India has not, at least in the last
thirty years, produced a hero like Your Lordship, whose soldier-like
qualities are fully known to the world. The country which has been the
cradle of Indian invasions came to realize the extent of your power and
recognized your generalship. . . . The occupation of Kabul and the
glorious battle of Kandahar are amongst the brightest jewels in the
diadem of Your Lordship's Baronage. . . . Terrible in war and merciful
in peace, Your Excellency's name has become a dread to the enemies of
England and lovely to your friends."

That last phrase, "lovely to your friends," is a true though Oriental
summing-up of one great secret of Roberts' renown. He has been called
the "best-loved soldier of England." And he possessed in an especial
degree the power of attracting and holding the love and respect of the
East Indians. They felt that he would always deal fairly by them.

When he went to Mandalay, in 1886, he saw that if he wished to win the
confidence of the people of Upper Burmah, he must win over the Buddhist
priests. This he did, and even persuaded his Government to pension the
three head priests.

"They showed their gratitude," he says, "by doing all they could to help
me, and when I was leaving the country, the old Thathana bain accompanied
me as far as Rangoon. We corresponded till his death, and I still hear
occasionally from one or other of my Phoonghi friends."

As for his own soldiers, they came fairly to worship him. To them he was
not a Lord, or General, or Field Marshal, but just "Bobs" and "Our Bobs."
Wellington commanded the respect of his men, but Roberts their love.

"Lord Roberts! Well, he's just a father," is the testimony of one gunner
in the South African War. "Often goes around hospital in Bloemfontein,
and it's 'Well, my lad, how are you today? Anything I can do for you?
Anything you want?'--and never forgets to see that the man has what he
asks for. Goes to the hospital train--'Are you comfortable? Are you
sure you're comfortable?' Then it's 'Buck up! Buck up!' to those who
need it. But when he sees a man dying, it's 'Can I pray with you, my
lad?' I've seen him many a time praying, with not a dry eye near--tears
in his eyes and ours. He is a lord!"

A favorite story about him relates to an audience with Queen Victo